


of love.

by Bounteous



Series: let me lie beneath myself. [3]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash-centric, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounteous/pseuds/Bounteous
Summary: Aslan falls into the memory pool.(the timeline is like an incomplete puzzle and it's up to you guys to figure out the pieces once I finish all the fics because I can tell you right now that it is not in order)
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Series: let me lie beneath myself. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	of love.

**Author's Note:**

> a love worth keeping.
> 
> i wish  
> i wish  
> for love like this  
> a love like summer  
> being kissed by the sun
> 
> a love like winter  
> hugged and covered with snow  
> a love like the night  
> being lit by the moon’s glow
> 
> -'a beautiful composition of broken' by r.h. Sin

Eiji enjoys taking pictures off the clock more than he does on. Aslan supposes it makes sense. A hobby-turned-job might burn a person out—how poetically upsetting, he thinks—but Eiji finds solace in more than just the subject matter. 

Maybe he doesn’t necessarily like taking photos of families in their festival-wear, but Aslan’s heart squeezes, much like a young child and their teddybear, when he overhears Eiji’s nonsensical, photography vernacular as he spends the rest of their quiet evening editing.

Aslan pretended he was okay with Eiji taking his picture far more than he actually was. So the threat of Eiji getting injured no longer existed as palpably as before. Fear of disappointment and heartbreak has since taken place, and Aslan often considers it worse. 

Thick skin has made him insensitive. Training has made him paranoid. Teaching has made him analytically cold. He’s not proud to admit he forgets Eiji fakes hurt feelings, too. 

He said yes even though his mind began to shut off and his body turned on autopilot. 

Aslan is too good at faking sometimes. He screamed at Eiji to take notice with each deafening shutter. Stupid Aslan. Eiji can’t read minds. 

He doesn’t have to fake anymore, though. If that’s any consolation.

_ “Not the face.” _

That’s what he’d said the first time. Their first meeting. 

As long as the pictures don’t end up in some gallery or portfolio, Aslan no longer minds. 

And Eiji seems happy. That’s always mattered more.

There’s a scrapbook sitting on their coffee table that Aslan has yet to open. Eiji made it, saying he’d captured and placed together the first year of their lives. He’s not so sure he wants to remember those days, but the thought counts and makes him feel warm inside anyway. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so scared to look. He just is. 

_ “When you’re ready.” _ Eiji’s words echo in his ears. 

He thinks he’s ready now. If he can’t actively identify his fear, then it’s probably illegitimate. Yeah.

Balanced precariously on the arm of their ratty, blue loveseat, Aslan reaches across and grasps the book in a calloused hand. It’s heavier than should be for pictures of just the two of them over the course of a year. Although, Eiji does take a lot of photos. Aslan hardly even notices it now. 

The cover is matte black with no indication whatsoever of the secrets inside. He lifts it open, hearing the fresh  _ crinkle _ of the binding being stretched. The first page is empty save for one single picture placed directly center, a heart penciled around it.

He remembers that one. Eiji had sat next to him as he’d been immersed in Dante, lifted the camera up, and planted the loudest, quickest smooch to his unsuspecting cheek. The result of the click of the camera was apparently Eiji with eyes squeezed shut and lips puckered and Aslan with a soft pink adorning his confused face. 

He doesn’t think Eiji edited it in the least. He can feel the rawness bubbling around the glossy edges; a perfect prologue.

Regardless, he whispers, “You fucking sap,” under his breath.

As he flips through the pages, he realizes the chronology is seasonal. Their new lives begin in the spring, stumble into the summer, drag themselves to autumn, before finally sliding into winter. 

Spring was supposed to feel like hope, and it did for a little while. Then they argued for the first time, delightfully topped with screaming, crying, and the breaking of objects. Aslan conceded and began therapist searching. Those nights were fitful and restless. Those days dragged on and he’d genuinely considered calling it quits multiple times. 

Summer was full of bumps and divots in a winding road. And humidity. The humidity was awful. Recovery had been slow-going, but distraction came in many forms. Aslan began learning Japanese as fast as he possibly could (Eiji watched him like a hawk to make sure he hadn’t been exhausting himself), he began finding things to write about that weren’t so damn depressing, and their general routine had been found. 

Eiji remembered his birthday, too. That was nice.

Autumn made him feel as if he’d lost all that progress he’d struggled to make. Things took a dark turn. Seeing those pictures, being reminded of the things he’d said and done before and after—something lodges itself in his throat and he quickly shuffles through to winter.

Winter felt like the past had finally become the past. When in the year prior they’d spent the holidays in hiding; it was the first time Aslan had ever actually celebrated something. He’d gotten comfortable referring to the Okumura family as his own and recalls Eiji giving his praise after their stay at his parents over Christmas. 

Things were as peaceful as they could get. 

Peace. 

That’s a feeling Aslan wants to hold onto forever. A feeling he wants etched into his body and soul. 

“I did not realize my photography skills were so bad.”

Aslan looks up, startled for once, finding his boyfriend with an awkward smile balancing on his lips.

“Huh?” he questions, confused. He hadn’t unintentionally made Eiji feel horrible about his hobby, had he? He great, perfect, amazing—his dumb brain can’t find the correct adjectives at the moment.

“You are finally looking at the scrapbook and crying,” he answers, moving to swipe his thumb gently across Aslan’s wet cheekbone.

Oh.

That is… mildly embarrassing.

“They’re nice pictures,” he says instead, voice wavering. He pauses to collect his thoughts. “I feel… overwhelmed.” 

Eiji huffs a laugh, sitting down next to him, not an inch of space left between. “You are always impulsive at bad times.” A collective, comforting silence. “Thank you very much.”

“I want to look at them again,” Aslan decides, and Eiji nods his understanding.

Together, they flip through the scrapbook of tears and joy and sadness and anger. Of recovery and fights and missteps and leaps.

Of love.

**Author's Note:**

> Support my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing! https://ko-fi.com/bounteous


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